We Will Be This Air Again

If I could
Capture anything
To carry with me
When I go
It wouldn’t be the
Streets or
Buildings or
What they call
Culture.

No.

It would be the air
Rustling of the leaves
Intoxicating wave that
Swells and stops
Stops and swells
Cooing pigeons.
This air that carries
Sounds of summer
Children playing soccer
In the distance.
This air that washes
Once cool
Once warm
This yearning soul.

A memory
Of a feeling
I was this air
When I close my eyes
When we part this world
You and I
We will be this air
again.